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Chapter 60 Waiting

AN* Angelus all the way baby!!!!!






He stood in the shadows of the trees that made up the park in the middle of the square. Waiting had never been an issue for him. He had learned the knack of standing still for hours many years ago. He could feel the wind against his face and the light drizzle of the rain on his eyelashes and hair. Cold rivulets of water penetrated beneath his cravat to wet his cold skin, yet still he did not move. Eyes trained on the door across the street, he waited for them to return.

Soon they would return. He had stood there for over an hour, ignoring the weather and the pain in his legs from standing still so long. It was one of his best talents, waiting.

As the carriage drew closer, he knew his quarry was near. Stepping back further into the shadows, he watched between the branches of a tree. They would not see him unless they looked for him, he had moved away from the light of the streetlamps an hour ago.

The murmur of their voices reached him on the wind. Cheerful laughter echoed across the street and tore at his soul. He wondered why they were happy, they should not be happy. He had started his campaign against them tonight; they should be cowering in fear.

There she was, the girl, the object of his obsession. She was smiling delicately at all the men around her, her eyes sparkling beneath the light from the open doorway. Showing perfect teeth in her pretty face and innocently flirting. He waited while William took her hand along with her sister’s and guided them through the door. As the door closed behind them leaving their patch of street dark and empty, he turned and walked away.

He could wait.

He walked slowly home, thinking and planning. She would be a delicious treat, he thought. All spirit and fire wrapped in a delicious shell. He already thought of her as his new toy, and he did not like others playing with his toys. He must watch her closely.

All he had to do was, wait.

Would he seduce her or just fuck her, he had still to decide. Taking her from William’s protection would be a delicious game, but there was little time before the wedding, and little chance to take her. He must think this through well. He knew he may need some help in his plan, but he knew people who would do anything for a pint of gin.

He only had to wait.

Each step took him closer home and the emptiness within. He thought of his dark angel strapped to her cot in a cold dark room, and his manhood stirred. Dru liked to be tied down and would be relishing in her confinement, would he were there with her. The games they could play in the darkened room in Bedlam. Everyone would ignore the screams. He would visit her tomorrow and try and secure her release.

He would have to wait.

Prinny’s summons was sitting in the library needing his attention. He would have to toad up to the self-indulgent fool and obsequious flattery was not in his make-up. He would have to be very good at it by Wednesday and his interview with Prinny or he would never get his Dru back. His solution would be to tell the prince he was taking her back to Ireland. Prinny would accept that, he was sure. He would have his dark angel back soon.

If only he could wait.

As he approached his door, his plans now fixed in his head, he thought of all the people he would hurt. He did not think of them in sympathy, he thought of them as a list of candidates for his retribution. It had been some time since his last bout of terror and his gut tightened in anticipation. The girl would be last on his list. He might start with Telford. Men were out looking for him now, his direction paramount to his plans. Men who were owned by him and loyal to him, and most of all paid well by him. Information was key in any threat, and he was determined his information be correct.

He only had to wait.

Entering his home, he handed his topcoat to the footman waiting in the hall and bid him find brandy. The butler entered cautiously with the decanter as upsetting the master did not bode well for a quiet night. Carefully pouring the brandy into a goblet, he was pleased to receive his dismissal. Keeping the master happy until the mistress returned was essential to the steady running of the house. His master called for the maids to be lined up in the hallway to allow him to pick his bed mate for the night. Cook would be on hand to clean up their wounds in the morning.

They would all have to wait.

Retiring to his bed with his toy under his arm, he made her strip him and pleasure him with her mouth. He had used this one before and she knew how he liked his women to behave, and would give him no trouble. He could lose himself in her for an hour or two then send her back to the servant’s quarters. The exercise would help him sleep. He needed a clear head for the morrow and the information he would receive from his people.

He could hardly wait.

Her back bleeding and his manhood spent, the maid returned to the scullery. She had been a wonderful diversion, but now his head was full of business. He was undecided which man to go for first, maybe Telford, maybe Craven. Thinking clearly now he decided Craven should be first. His death would put a cloud over the wedding and may make the girl and her family careless. Yes, he thought, he would most definitely start with Craven, and soon.

It can be such fun to wait.

His sleep was not tortured by dreams as others may be. His conscience had left him almost in the cradle. He was all powerful now; he needed no man to tell him his path in life. It had been foretold by the chovihani of the local gypsies, that he would one day be feared throughout the land. She had called him rom baro, or king, in their language as she had rocked his cradle. She had petted him and loved him as a child. He had killed her on his tenth birthday with his pistol as she tried to curse his soul. She was the first he had killed and the one he remembered with pleasure. Dying on her knees while she begged him to let her cleanse his soul had been one of his finest moments. It had been his first blood and still his best. Craven would die exactly the same way.

It would be delicious to wait.

His minions arrived before luncheon with the news that Telford kept a woman in Kensington and had stayed there the previous day and night. They had followed him to Clarence House and correctly assumed he was visiting the prince. Leaving a man there to watch for his dismissal, the others had returned to their master with their knowledge. Their master would reward them well for this task. Paying them well, he wrote down the direction of Telford’s home. He might pay her a visit soon and show her what a real man was like between the sheets instead of a whey-faced Lord. He must arrange a wild goose chase for Telford. Then he would visit his whore.

It would be worth the wait.

He would leave Craven to stew in fear for a few more days. The closer to the wedding for his funeral the better it would be. The Summers household would be in mourning and the wedding would be a muted affair. No celebrations to mark the occasion, just the family and close friends. The wedding of the season would be ruined, and his girl would cry. He must remember to give her something to take away the tears.

There was nothing quite as peaceful as sitting back to wait.





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